every summer. Thankfully, the girls and Gabe don’t have this problem.
I trace my finger along the faint mark on my breast — a soft crescent, like the red tinged mark of a half-drunken bottle of Merlot left on a white tablecloth. He bit me again. Almost as if he knew I’d been a bad girl and deserved to be bitten. And I loved it. I loved the passion we shared. I’m aroused by the memory of our lovemaking. It was so amazing.
The faint mark on my hip draws my attention too — the strain of my panties when he tried to rip them off tore at my skin. The red line meets the edge of the intricate scrolls framing his name tattooed on my skin. His mark is all over me. And inside me as well… he’s everywhere. I have no clue how I’m supposed to go on without him.
I turn to the side and study my profile. I’m not quite sure if my pregnancy shows already. There is definitely a small belly, but it’s always been there, ever since I’ve had the girls.
I hear a quick knock at the door. “Who is it?” I call out, half hoping it’s Gabe. Suddenly the idea of a shower quickie sounds like a lot of fun.
“It’s Claire-bear.” Her sweet voice brings a smile to my face.
I slip on my robe and open the door for her. “Hi, Claire.”
She hugs me, pressing her sweet face against my stomach.
“Can I go pee?” she asks as she scurries to the toilet. She tinkles as I fiddle with the faucets, trying to figure out the shower and get just the right temperature. It’s always like that when you’re somewhere strange.
“Can I have a shower too?” she asks, all smiles, looking adorable in her father’s oversized t-shirt. In my haste and distraction, I completely forgot to pack pajamas for her and Chloe.
“Sure. You can hop in before me. But just five minutes.”
She peels off the t-shirt and her little star covered underwear. “I’m ready.”
The sight of her, so adorable and happy, makes me smile, just like it did that fateful day in my walk-in closet, when she wore my pink vintage dress.
If only we could all go back in time, to that exact moment.
The moment that changed everything.
The next day, we venture a little out of our comfort zone, taking the girls on a bike ride with rented bikes. An old-style blue beach cruiser for me, complete with quaint basket and basket rack. It’s very me. Gabe rides a standard mountain bike and Chloe is pleased as pie to be riding a pink sparkly rental. She gets a basket, and a bell too. Claire pouts because she doesn’t get to ride. She’s riding in a trailer, pulled by Gabe. She gets the Queen’s treatment if you ask me. Nestled next to her are our supplies: a beach blanket, lunch cooler, towels and beach toys.
We explore the waterfront trail which circles the Lake Erie shoreline all around the island. It’s quite breathtaking, taking us through the countryside and past vineyards and marshes. I’m getting quite a workout, but Gabe is always considerate in asking Chloe and I if we’re doing okay. She looks adorable in her hot pink helmet. Her bright smile lights me up.
We stop by the water for a quick swim and lunch. The cold breeze is refreshing as we peel off our shirts and shorts, exposing our bathing suits. We all dive in, hot and exhausted.
We pick a pristine spot on beautiful sand dunes to lay out our beach blanket. Starving, I grab all the staples from the cooler; salami and cheese sandwiches, apples, ketchup flavored potato chips, water, juice boxes for the girls, and mini donuts for dessert.
The girls are itching to go play by the beach, but I insist we all eat first. I’m ravenous as I dig my teeth into my sandwich. Gabe flashes me a sweet smile here and there, and I’m reminded of the night before and how amazing he is. When he smiles at me like that, I can almost forget.
Almost.
The girls sit at the water’s edge. We both keep an eye on them. Claire wears her water wings but I know that’s not enough. They’re both wearing their matching polka dot suits, much to Chloe’s dismay. They’re working on yet another masterpiece. Chloe seems to be in charge of fetching the water. And Claire’s hands are busy filling the sand bucket. I love watching them play when they